Broken Halos
by Dustfingers-Angel
Summary: Elizabeth Irvine MacDuff moved from Scotland to Georgia, USA, to start a new life all for herself. Moving halfway across the world, opening her own tattoo parlour, adjusting to the heat - and meeting the locals... (Title - 'Broken Halos' by Chris Stapleton) OC 1st person POV - set before the start of the series (chapters vary in content rating)
1. Intro

Day 1 - I moved to America.

It took years of saving, planning, organising, learning, growing and waiting, but I did it. I had my own shop, I had my own flat, my own car - my own life. A new life, one that was just for me. Or so I thought.

It was hot. It was so fucking God shitting damn hot. Moving from Glasgow, Scotland, to Atlanta, Georgia, was not so much a 'culture shock' more of a 'climate shock'. 20ºC wasn't ideal weather for pale freckly ginger to be moving very heavy boxes in. The first half of my stuff had arrived about a month before I did; it had been moved into the back room of the studio - my studio, my own freakin tattoo studio - what 26 year old had their own studio? Me, that's who! - the rest of the boxes had arrived an hour and a half after the taxi dropped me off.

As I moved the third box of clothes inside, I relished the idea of a completely unpacked home. I trudged through what was going to be the reception, through the wide empty room behind it, into the corridor and up the stairs. Clothes got put in the bedroom, then I went back for the next. Three rooms downstairs - reception, studio, bathroom; four rooms upstairs - living room, bedroom, bathroom, kitchen. One corridor linked the floors, one cupboard in the hall on either floor. The flat was bought outright. The studio was $185 a week, which I'd paid upfront for 3 months. This was a good start - a fucking unbelievable good start, just as long as it didn't come crashing down around my head.

Pausing at the front door, I wiped the sweat of my forehead again. Fuck, it was too warm. I checked the time; two hours until the maintenance guy turned up to fix the air-con. Well that sucked.

I tied my tank top up at the side, trying to cool off as much as I could. Short short, tanktop, flip flops, sooo much sun cream - I would have died back home if anyone ever saw me like that, but at that moment, in that fucking heat, I could not have given less of a shit. I didn't care that my milk bottle legs were out, that you could see all my stretch marks, and chub - it was too damn hot. Apparently it was hotter in Atlanta city though - how the fuck could it be hotter than this? Idly I wonder if I went another 35 miles away from Atlanta it would get another few degrees cooler again - though I'd probably get back round to Scotland before I found a comfortable climate, shame.

I took a moment to look down the street I now lived on. The studio was at the end, opposite a dive bar called 'The Doghouse" (which made me laugh) - it looked like it had been burned down 20 times in 10 year, and was still there just because nobody had noticed. Next door to me was a garage - 'Mike's Repairs', well, actually it said 'M ke' R pa s', but the indication of it's full title was there. Across the road next to the Doghouse was a sad looking 24hr convenience store called 'Bobby's' that advertised the selling of various alcohols. After that, the tarmac faded into a dirt road and went off into some trees - apparently there was a pond or something down there. If I looked in the other direction, it was also just road. Trees hid it from sight in a short distance, but beyond them there was a corner, and round it a petrol station. A little further from that was the town. If you went in the other direction there were farms. It made a change, being in the middle of nowhere.

Like my flat, there were other residencies above the other shops - bigger than mine though, each of the other buildings having at three floors and roof access. Apparently I had roof access too, I just hadn't worked that out yet. Maybe there was a hatch with a ladder, like the loft at home. I shook myself back into focus and got on with moving the boxes.

I took a break for lunch, and waited for the guy who was going to fix the aircon. He arrived a bit late but got the job done quick. I'd never felt such a relief as when I felt that cool air on my bare arms. I thanked and tipped him and he was on his way. Once he'd left, I flopped down on the sofa in the waiting room - thank fuck for aircon. I must have fallen asleep there, when i opened my eyes again the sun was setting. Shit. With a groan, I got back to my feet.

I stopped at the door and stretched. There were two cars in the street now, outside the Doghouse. A battered old Chevy pick up and a rusting beetle - even though they were in worse shape than my jeep, I admired then for a moment; before remembering there were still boxes I had to get inside.

There were 8 left. 3 had books in them, 1 had the last of my tattoo gear, 2 had an assortment of ornaments, pictures, decor and random collectables, and the last 2 had my vintage cash register, a lamp, some plant pots and my shop name plaque from Tattoo Con, packed with socks and scarves and gloves.

I had the 2 'ornaments and shit' boxes inside was coming back out to decide what to move next when I heard a voice call, "Hey, you need a hand there sugar?"

That's how I met Merle Dixon.


	2. Ain't My Fault

I heard a voice call, "Hey, you need a hand there sugar?"

I looked up to see who called. He was a big man, broad shoulders and chest, short hair and rough stubble. There was nothing in particular that stood out about him to me - he reminded me of a few of the regulars I'd had back home. He leant against the wall of the Doghouse, drinking a pint - one elbow up on the windowsill, pint in hand, other hand in his pocket, all his weight on one side. He had a swagger about him, something that quietly told me 'he's probably trouble'

"Well, for a start, it's Liz, not 'sugar' - and if you're going to give me hand, you can leave the beer over there"

"Is that so" he laughed, "Damn girl where you from?" he sat his glass on the windowsill and sauntered across the road toward me and the several heavy boxes that were left outside.

"Scotland" I told him, "Just moved"

"Damn, you gonna be staying here?"

"Yeah"

He looked me up and down, then offered me a hand, "Merle"

I shook, "Nice to meet you Merle"

He turned to my boxes, "So where you wanting these, Lizzie?"

"It's just Liz. If you can take them up stairs and into the front room that would be great"

Merle was smug and cocky, he smirked, "No problem, Lizzie" I rolled my eyes.

That smug look stayed on his face until he picked up the box with my cash register in, "Christ, you got lead bricks in here?"

"No," I smiled, picking up another box, "that's got a 40kg cash register in it, amongst other things - be careful with it, it's about 80 years old"

Merle blinked in confusion, but followed me in and brought the box upstairs. "Damn, this place is looking good" he mused.

"Glad you think so"

The rest of the boxes got moved in quickly, accompanied by many cheeky comments and banter. Merle seemed to enjoy that I had a response for every remark he made. When I could stand at the front door and no longer see moving boxes, I let out a great sigh of relief. "Thanks for the help, Merle"

"Not a problem, Lizzie"

He went to walk past me, and make his way back to the Doghouse, but I caught his arm as he did, "You can give me back that watch now"

The smug look slid off his face, "How'd..."

"And the pocket watch, and the wallet, thank you" He gawped for a second before taking the items out his pockets and handing them back, "That's great, thanks - anything else?" Silently, he put his hand back in his pocket and handed over a hip flask. "I appreciate the honesty"

He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck, "Uh, um yeah..."

Shifting my weight from one leg to the other, and folding my arms, I asked, "So are you going to buy me a drink?"

"I- what?"

The confused frown on his face made me want to laugh, but I kept a straight face, "For attempting to rob me. Are you going to buy me a drink?"

He blinked a few more times in confusion, "... Sure thing, Liz"

I smiled widely; locking the door behind me, I started to cross the street. Merle followed behind me, looking flummoxed, "And Merle?"

"Yeah?"

"If I ever catch you putting out your cigarettes on my driveway again, I'm going to kick your arse"

"... Yes Ma'am"

(Ain't My Fault by Brothers Osborne)


	3. Drinking Buddies

"And Merle?"

"Yeah?"

"If I ever catch you putting out your cigarettes on my driveway again, I'm going to kick your arse"

"... Yes Ma'am"

Merle grabbed his empty pint glass from earlier off the windowsill and brought it inside, holding the door open for me as he did. "After you" he bowed low, a little smirk on his face. He's been surprised, no doubt, but it didn't seem like there was anything that could knock Merle for too long.

"Why thanks"

The inside of the Doghouse was very much like the outside, a bit dark, a bit dirty, a bit old. It smelt like spilt beer, disinfectant and smoke. Though, credit where it's due, it was a lot bigger inside than I'd expected.

The bar ran down most of one wall, turning at the end to make space for a fire escape - that I took note of, just in case. There was a small empty wooden dance (?) floor (like, there was nobody who was going to be dancing on that, but what else do you call it?), several round tables with unsteady looking wooden chairs, and some deep booths lining the wall opposite the bar. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the floor wasn't actually as sticky as it looked. And for a friday night, the place wasn't that busy - conversation was continuous, but not loud, which made a nice change.

Merle walked me to the bar, giving the bartender a nod to get his attention.

The bartender was a skinny guy, tall and tired looking. He continued drying a glass as he came over to us, "Who's your friend?"

I cut Merle off before he had a chance to speak, "Liz, I've just moved in across the street"

He looked impressed, "We were wondering who was going to be turning up with all that stuff being moved in - nice to final meet the neighbour. What you drinking?"

"I'll have a Jack Daniel's and coke - he's paying" you tilted your head towards Merle.

"Shit, he is?" he laughed, "Is he really or is it going on his tab?" a pointed look was directed at Merle.

"Oh for fuck sake, I'm paying alright - and I told you I was going to pay the tab"

He cocked an eyebrow, "I'll believe it when it happens"

"Aw come on, you're making me look bad now"

"You don't need me to do that"

I rolled my eyes, "Alright, alright, that's plenty - am i getting a drink or a headache?"

"Sorry miss," the bartender apologized, "I'll get that for you now"

I turned and leant against the bar, surveying the room. I was getting a few looks but nobody seemed that bothered, there were more important things to focus on; a game of cards, yesterday's newspaper, the bottom on their glasses. It was only the back of ten, but I was feeling ready for my bed. One drink then sleep. I laughed to myself, moving opposite a pub was probably not the best idea.

My JD and coke was placed next to me, as well as another pint for Merle, and he begrudgingly forked over the money. I sipped my drink as he took a mouthful. "So," he began, staring off behind the bar, "you do tattoos then?"

"Yeah, I'm a tattoo artist"

"And you're going to turn your place across the road into a parlour?"

"A studio, yeah"

He nodded, almost thoughtfully, "My little brother's been looking for somewhere close to get some old ink freshened up"

"You can send him my way, once the studio's set up. As long as he's no better a thief than you"

He clapped his hand to his chest, "You wound me"

"I catch you stealing from me again and I fucking will wound you"

He laughed, "I don't doubt that you would"

There was something about Merle that I liked, but I wasn't sure what. He reminded me of a biker I used to tattoo a lot. I wondered if he had a motorbike. We talked a little as I finished my drink, about my new neighbours, and the few things that were nearby - the creek, the barn, the cabin in the woods.

"Well, I think I'm heading in for the night"

"Already?" Merle raised an eyebrow.

"Already. I still have jet lag. And I need to get work done tomorrow."

He rolled his eyes, "Trust you to be sensible"

"Ha!" I pushed my glass back from the edge of the bar and stood up, stretching. Merle downed the rest of his pint and stood as well.

"Let me walk you home"

I laughed at him, "You want to walk me back across the road? Alright, if you want"

"Well I do want, so I will"

I shook my head, but accepted it. We walked out the bar and across the street to my door. I unlocked it and turned to Merle, "Well thank for walking me home" I mocked kindly.

"My pleasure" he grinned, "Now, you sure you won't be lonely here all by yourself? I wouldn't want you being scared all alone in a new town"

I rolled my eyes, "I'll be fine Merle"

"You sure?"

"Very sure."

"Well, if you're sure, then-"

"Good night Merle"

"Hey now, just wait a second"

I folded my arms, planting myself in the doorway, "For what?"

"Here," he fumbled in his pocket and retrieved a pen, taking my arm he started writing, "have my number, just in case you need anything" he finished writing and winked.

I sighed in exasperation, "Wow, thank you so much Merle. I'm going to shut and lock my door now and turn on my burglar alarm and go to bed." I said pointedly.

He looked slightly sheepish, "Noted. Good night Lizzie"

"Liz"

He smirked, "Good night Liz"

I watched him saunter back to the doghouse, before shutting and locking my door. I shut the blinds, checked my alarm, and headed upstairs. Having the boxes everywhere was exciting - new possibilities, new starts. I was too tired to shower, it could wait til morning. I changed, put my phone onto charge and got into bed.

I was about to put out the light when I saw Merle's number still scribbled on my arm. I stared at it for a second, before taking my phone and saving the number.

I put down my phone, turned out the light, rolled over and went to sleep.

(Drinking Buddies - Logan Mize)


	4. Sippin' On Fire

I woke up sweating. Why the fuck was it so warm?

After getting up and trudging around to figure out what the problem was, I discovered the aircon was broken. Again.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I grumbled.

I phoned the maintenance guy that had been yesterday to 'fix it', but I couldn't get through. I kept trying but after half an hour in my sweatbox of an apartment I had to give up - this needed fixed, now. I got dressed and ready to head over to the Doghouse to see of anyone around would be able to help.

My phone dinged.

I frowned - who the hell was texting me? It was bloody 7AM.

I picked up my phone;

**_\- 1 Message -_**

**_ \- From Merle -_**

**_ \- Mrnn Lizzie M - _**

I stopped for a second, before starting to type;

_**\- Cn U fx AC? L -**_

Send.

...

Ding.

_**\- Ye M - **_

_** \- Thn gt ovr hre asap L -**_

_**\- OMW ;) M -**_

I rolled my eyes but hoped he wouldn't be long. I got myself breakfast while i waited, unhappily munching on cardboard tasting cereal - refusing to make myself coffee because it was so hot.

Merle wasn't actually that long, maybe 40 minutes at the most - but it had felt like hours. The roar of a motorbike had grew closer and closer, until I heard it stop outside. Who the fuck... Wait, did Merle have a bike? I peered out the window ...apparently he did. Damn.

When I opened the door to him, he was stripping off his leather jacket, showing off his arms to his shoulders, and the loose white tank top he was wearing underneath.

"What did that bed sheet do to offend you?" I called from the door, enjoying the shaded step and the slight breeze.

He looked confused for a second before he realised I was taking the piss out of his top. "Huh, funny - so, what's up?'

"Aircon's broke"

"Yeah I got that" he laughed, kicking out the stand and getting of the bike. (Nice bike, stripped back, functional) "What's making it be broke?"

I frowned at him, "It's an aircon. I've never had one til yesterday. I don't have a fucking clue"

He smirked, apparently amused. "Alright, alright - lemme see what I can do"

It didn't take long for him to work out the problem. "Short circuit - wire's frayed"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I gotta spare wire back home. I'll run get it - easy fix"

I sighed, leaning back on the countertop, "Thanks"

"No problem sweetheart"

"Enough of that - just fix my aircon before i melt into a puddle in my own apartment"

He laughed, loudly, "You're too hot?"

"Well obviously"

He chuckled, "You the ice queen or something? It's barely 23"

"I'm dying" i grumbled, "Did I move to Georgia or the 1st circle of Hell?"

"First 4 circles are ice cold, Darlin' - you should do your reading" he laughed.

I raised an eyebrow, "Didn't reckon you were much of a reader"

He smirked, "There's a lot you don't know about me, yet"

I shook my head, "Can you just go get the wire to fix this? Please"

He nodded, "Right away, Lizzie" he started walking out.

"It's Liz"

While he was away, I focused on filling ice cube trays, reorganising the fridge and freezer, finding batteries for some handheld fans, opening doors and windows to create a bit of a cross breeze. It seemed to take Merle ages to get back, I resisted the urge to moan at him when he eventually did.

I let him in and get to work, waiting and drinking a bottle of water that was mainly ice. Surprisingly, a few minutes later, the AC rattled back into life, and cool air flowed through the building. I let out a contented sigh, "Thank God"

"Not God," came the replying call, "Just Merle will do fine" he appeared in the doorway, with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes, "Thanks Merle. What do I owe you?"

"Owe me?"

I stood, "For the repair? How much?" I nodded through towards the AC.

A wicked sort of smile spread across his face, "How about a drink?"

I looked at my watch, "It's 1:20 - I'm not buying you a drink at 1:20"

He laughed, "Alright then, what time will you buy me a drink?"

"Half 7, at the earliest"

He nodded, that smile still on his face, "And what time would you have a drink with me?"

"What?"

That annoying little smirk. "I never mentioned you buy Lizzie, that just wouldn't be proper of me"

I raised an eyebrow, "Seriously?"

"Yeah, what time-"

"No. Seriously 'it wouldn't be proper of you'. I can buy whoever I want a drink whenever I want, so go park that male ego with your bike"

Eyebrows raised, he faltered. He raised his hands in surrender, "I meant no offense"

"Mm-hm" i shook my head, then walked past him to go get my wallet. He followed, looking slightly perplexed. I grabbed a twenty and handed it to him, "Grab two six packs, cider - but not fucking strongbow or whatever cheap shit you get over here, tastes like piss. Come back at 8"

He blinked, blank faced, looked at the note in his hand then back to me. Then he nodded and started to smile, "Six pack of cider, no strongbow - not a problem."

I watched him leave, grinning as he straddled his bike. He gave me a wave then he was off.

I liked Merle.

Even then, the day after we had first met, the day after he'd attempted to steal from me, the whole while trying to flirt with me - I knew Merle was going to get me in trouble. I could have cut him out. I could have never spoke to him again. But... Merle gave me a sense of wild, unchecked, wreckless, dangerous, adventurous excitement. I couldn't place why, not then - there was nothing in particular that screamed out any of these things. Maybe it was just the way his presence sat in a room.

He reminded me of various people, ones I used to know, ones I'd heard of, movie characters... none of them were notably 'bad', they were all just, a little bit, 'other'.

I could handle myself, I knew that. Merle couldn't be any worse than the men I'd left behind. And if he turned out to be just the same, I had practice in dealing with it. But I didn't feel that about him, I couldn't feel any 'bad vibes' in that way from him. I was probably overthinking things. Merle definitely wasn't a Luke Skywalker, but he definitely wasn't a Darth Vader either. Maybe a Han Solo...? Ha, I wish.

(Sippin' On Fire - Florida Georgia Line)


	5. Slow Your Roll

I managed to get a lot done during the afternoon; reception was mostly unpacked and organized, studio was still mainly in boxes but they were in the right places, bathroom, kitchen and hall were all sorted out, bedroom was getting there, and the living room was clear enough to chill out in without worrying that an avalanche of boxes was about to fall and bury you alive.

I had laid back on the sofa, cold lemonade in hand, and took a deep soothing breath. Moving house sucked. Especially halfway around the world. But things were coming together. Tomorrow I'd get the studio done, then I could get the place up and running. The website was ready for launch, and so was the social media. My old following were lined up on a mailing list, and flyers were ready to be stuck up everywhere for the next 10 miles in every direction. Maybe I'd enlist the help of Merle and his motorbike.

... speaking of...

I could hear the sound of a motorbike in the distance. I glanced at the clock - from the sounds of it, he'd arrive at 8 on the dot. Huh.

When he parked his bike outside i stuck my head out the window to call down to him, "Got my cider?" He looked up and smiled - without saying a word he opened the bag under the seat and pulled out a six pack. I grinned, "Guess you're allowed in then - make sure you shut the door behind you"

Merle was inside and up the stairs in a flash, a lopsided grin on his face, and six-packs in his hands. "Bet you're glad to see me'

"That's what you think" I took the six pack out of his hand and slumped down on the sofa.

Merle sat back next to me, his arms stretched out across the back and arm of the sofa, "The place isn't looking to bad"

I laughed, "It's a work in progress"

"Cosy enough to me" he kicked off his boots and crossed his feet up on the coffee table

I scoffed, "Aye, looks like it"

"_Aye_" he echoed, laughing, "D'y'all actually say that?"

"_D'y'all_" I mimicked, pulling a dumb face.

Merle laughed loudly, "Well you got me there"

"Hey if you're going to rip the piss out of my accent I'll do the same to you"

He looked at me for a second, still sniggering, "That was one interesting sentence"

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Redneck"

Merle cracked open a bottle and took a drink before replying, "If you think calling me a redneck is an insult you've got a lot to learn"

I took a long drink, mentally rolling my eyes and shaking my head, "Well if you keep showing up as often as you have been I think I'll pick it up pretty quick"

"Hey, if you want a teacher I could do full time" he waggled his eyebrows and gave me a wink.

I couldn't help but laugh - less than a handful of year ago I would have been all over a guy like Merle, but life changed, and I had goals, ambitions, and I wasn't here to play those games any more. "If you think hanging around here is going to get you fucked Merle, you really need to step back and take a look around"

"Now why do you think I'm just here to get laid?"

"You're a guy, who's bought me drinks. That's enough reason"

"I swear to you now, I'm not one of them guys who don't understand the word 'no'"

"Good to know" I smiled at him, "So, what are you doing here?"

"Having a drink"

"You know what I mean", I flashed him a smile, hoping I could get him to open up just a little, "You're clearly a local, you must have friends around here, so why are you hanging around with the new girl?"

Merle tipped up his bottle and drained it, "Honestly?"

"Honestly"

"Honestly, last time I was a regular in this town I was probably barely in my twenties"

I took a second, taking it in, "So, where have you been?"

He smiled, leaning back, "Texas, Alaska, Florida, Iraq, Afghanistan, then back to Florida and Miami - and now I'm back here"

"Wow, I mean I've been on plenty of holidays, but i've never really moved around, especially not that much" A lot about Merle suddenly made sense.

"Yeah, guess I got bored of staying in one place too long"

"Hey, if it's what you want to do, and you can do it - then go for it"

"I'll drink to that"

I laughed, "Yeah, yeah"

We drank and chatted for the next few hours, til all our drink were finished. Merle surprised me, by just how laid back he was. He was probably the best company I'd had in the last year.

He stretched, "Well I guess I better hit the road"

You're not serious?"

"What?"

I sat forward, "You're not about to go drive"

"Why not? Been doing it all my life, why stop now?"

"Because," I said firmly, "Nobody is ever leaving my home to drive under the influence - my home, my rules. And i'm not allowing you to break them, You can sleep on the sofa" I got up, shaking my head.

I got Merle some pillows and blankets for him to use, before grabbing the empty bottles and putting them in the kitchen.

When I woke the next day Merle was gone. The pillows and blankets were folded and stacked neatly, and a note had been left on top.

I picked it up, amused, realising it had been torn off the end of a receipt. On it, written in blocky letters, it read,

_Thanks for the company and for the sofa IOU -M_

(Slow Your Roll - Brothers Osborne)


	6. Outcast

It had been a few days since Merle had stayed over, I hadn't seen him but we texted most day - talking shit for the most part. It was nice.

The studio was gently up and running, I'd taken a few shorter appointments to get things started, and whatever walkins turned up. I was still waiting for something arriving - a set of huge decals for the front window, the studio floor and the studio wall, as well as some merchandise, display cases and strip lighting for under the cabinets and reception desk. But it was completely functional, so there was no point in letting time and money go to waste.

It wasn't a long day but I was tired. I'd gone to bed relatively early, texting Merle before I fell asleep:

_Drinks tomorrow night? -L_

_..._

I woke to my phone ringing. It took me a few seconds to register what was going on but I grabbed my phone, "Hello?"

"This Liz?"

I didn't recognise the voice, but he was someone local, "Yeah?"

"You were the last person Merle was talking to"

I was suddenly very awake, "Yeah, is he okay?"

"Uh, listen - he needs somewhere to go, now"

"Shit - is he hurt?"

"Yeah. He'll live but he's in a bad way. Can we come to your place?"

"Yeah, of course. Can you get him here?"

"Where are you?"

It took me a second to dredge up the information, "The old building across from the Doghouse Pub - the new tattoo studio. If you go round the back there's no gate, I'll open the door"

"Okay" He hung up.

I sat there for a few seconds, trying to get my brain to snap back into reality. I dragged myself out of bed, only noticing the time as I left the room and headed downstairs to unlock the back door - 03:46

I unlocked the door, fished out my first aid kit, fixed an ice pack, filled a bottle of water. It was well after 4 when I heard the back door open.

"Liz?"

"Here" I called as I ran down the stairs.

At the bottom stood a younger man with Merle all but hanging over his shoulder. "He's barely awake - can you help me get him up there?"

"Yeah" I got Merle's arm around my shoulders, "I'll lead if you've got most of his weight"

"Yeah"

I could hear Merle mumbling and panting for breath, but I couldn't make out a word he was trying to say. He was trying to get his feet under him to help with the stairs but it wasn't doing any good.

"Through here" I told the younger guy, leading them into my bedroom. I'd stripped the bed and put down a thicker sheet. We got Merle lying down, then I took a second and stepped back.

Merle was black and blue. Black eyes, brust lips, bruised jaw - there was blood on his shirt and his jeans, and from the way he'd been trying to walk, I guessed there was more I couldn't see.

"Sit him up a second" I told the younger guy, grabbing pillows to prop Merle up. I stacked them as best I could under his shoulders and head before he was laid back down.

"What happened?"

"Not a hundred percent sure, got there just for the last of it"

I looked him up and down. He was probably ten years or so younger than Merle, skinnier. His hair was short but messy, his clothes hung off him. "Liz" I offered him my hand.

He shook it, "Daryl"

"And you're...?"

"His brother" he nodded at Merle.

Ah.

There was silence for a while, and I watched as Merle fell asleep, and his breathing eased slightly.

"I don't know what I can do to help him" I told Daryl, "He can stay here as long as he needs to heal up, but I don't know how to help him"

"Honestly, me neither - but I knew he had to go somewhere safe"

I watched him for a second, "What happened?"

"Bunch of S.O.B cops - Merle grew up with them but he ain't been round here in a while. They wasn't ever exactly friends"

"Police did this?"

"Yeah - sons of cops who're sons of cops, going way back. Just the way shit is round here"

"Fuck" I muttered.

"You said it"

I rubbed my face, taking it all in, "You want a beer?"

He glanced at me for a brief second, "Wouldn't say no"

We sat, Daryl on my desk and I in my desk chair. We didn't want to leave Merle unsupervised just yet.

Daryl didn't look particularly like Merle. He was a lot scrawnier, 'like a beanpole' my Granny would have said. His hair was still short, but messier and unbrushed, like it hadn't been cut in a few months. He looked dejected, and like he hadn't slept in a week. Merle was rough round the edges but Daryl had the classic 'dragged through a hedge backwards' look about him. He didn't say much, but he was conversational - very neutrally spoken, he wasn't rude, or polite, he just spoke, plainly. I was sure he was older than me, but if I'd only seen him I could have been convinced we were around the same age; there was something about him that made me feel he was young.

As much as he'd sounded urgent on the phone, he didn't look alarmed by the state of his brother. Merle looked like he'd been taken out and thrown to the lions. His face was bruised and swollen, his once white t-shirt was muddy and bloodstained. His jeans were ripped at the knees and the skin I could see through to was bloody and unclean.

"Should clean any scratches before the get infected" I said.

But Daryl shook his head, "He wouldn't thank you - leave him and he'll clean himself up tomorrow"

It didn't sit entirely well with me, but Daryl knew his brother best, so I thought it best not to argue.

It was a long night, the first of many. I'd never been happier than when my first appointment cancelled the next day.

(Outcast - Kerrie Roberts)


End file.
